


five years strong

by asymmetric



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, malum anniversary!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymmetric/pseuds/asymmetric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any decent friendship anniversary should have several mentions of romantic handjobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five years strong

**Author's Note:**

> so i am a shit malum fan because i did not know that on september 22nd, 2009, calum posted on michael's facebook wall and was like "it's our anniversary" 
> 
> so this is written for that. bit late, I know. it's also a bit dumb. a lot dumb. whatever.

"Calum," someone says, very loudly and very close to his ear.

"What," Calum tries to say. He's sort of squashed underneath a giant, sweaty body, so it's definitely not his fault that the word comes out a bit muffled.  
  
"Calum," says the voice insistently. "It's our anniversary!"  
  
Calum pries his eyelids open and stares disbelievingly up at Michael. He can only really see his cheek because Michael's face is pressed to his, but he levels his most incredulous stare at him anyway. Michael doesn't need to be able to see it to feel its burn.  
  
"I'm trying to sleep," Calum says.  
  
A warm hand slides up the curve of his side and then Michael's shifting above him, planting his elbow next to Calum's head and levering himself up slightly. Calum can still feel Michael's legs pressed all along his own, cottony sleep pants on Calum's bare legs and boxers, but with the press of his chest gone Calum can breathe again. He feels strangely cold in all the places where he's lost the touch of Michael's body, and he resents that. If Mikey hadn't climbed in in the first place, Calum would never have known what level of warmth he was missing and he would be happily asleep and dreaming of Megan Fox.  
  
Or Michael and Megan Fox. He's been having confusing dreams lately.  
  
"But we need to celebrate," Michael says. "We've only got like ten minutes left before it's twelve and then it's the 23rd. Ten minutes is enough time for handjobs, right?"  
  
Calum blinks up at Michael, reevaluating. Maybe he's already asleep. At least he hopes he is. If he isn't, Michael's weight pressing down on his hips like that is going to get really inconvenient really fast.  
  
"What," he repeats. At least this time it comes out clearly.  
  
Michael shifts again, a little wiggle of his body like he's just trying to get comfortable, and Calum tries very hard to think of unsexy things. Dead puppies. His mother. That creepy school picture of Michael from when they were kids.  
  
"Don't you remember?" Michael says. "We made today our like, anniversary thing. Of us. Being friends. And it's like five years this time so we should do something special."  
  
He blinks his big, stupid, doe eyes down at Calum as if that should make everything clear. Horribly enough, it does, because if the last five years have taught Calum anything, it's how to understand the weird jumps in Michael's logic.  
  
"Handjobs," Calum says slowly. "Handjobs as something special." He thinks he might be getting a headache.  
  
Michael nods, a little smile growing on his face.  
  
"It's great, right? Romantic."  
  
He waggles his eyebrows, and Calum realizes that it's not a headache. It's anger.  
  
"We don't need to celebrate anything," he says, looking past Michael's shoulder at the darkened ceiling. Michael hadn't turned the lights on when he busted into Calum's room evidently. "That anniversary thing was just from the day we became facebook friends. We've known each other for longer, so we don't even know when our actual anniversary of being friends is. It's stupid."  
  
There's a short pause.  
  
"What?" Michael says. His voice is softer now, confused, and Calum turns his head and presses his cheek against the sheets, hiding from the weird, bruised look on Mikey's face. He doesn't have the right to look like that, not when he's the one making fun of Calum. "Of course it means something. You're the one who came up with it. You're usually the only one who remembers and like, does something each year—"  
  
The anger crests hot and sick in his chest, and Calum gives a great flail, trying to roll over, to knee Michael in the balls, to buck him off somehow. But it doesn't matter that he's probably stronger than Michael because Michael's got all the leverage; Calum finds himself slammed back down on the bed, a hand gripping on his shoulder and Michael's legs tangled more tightly with his, still pinning him down.  
  
"Ow," Michael says. "Jesus, Cal."  
  
"Okay, I get it," Calum says, his face hot with anger and embarrassment. "I'm always the stupid one who actually cares and remembers shit. Whatever. You don't need to take the piss."  
  
"I'm not," Michael says, and he sounds like he's surprised, the little liar. "I missed it when you didn't do anything this year! I was the one who remembered and you didn't!"  
  
Calum twists his arm violently until Michael lets go of his shoulder, and then presses his hand to his eyes.  
  
"Bullshit!" Calum hisses. "I tried to buy you something when we went to the shops earlier. And then I asked if you wanted to go get cheesesteaks with me for supper and you invited Luke to come too!"  
  
"How was I supposed to know cheesesteaks was gonna be some sort of thing?" Michael shoots back. Calum can feel his breath on his cheek and the back of his hand, like Michael has bent down closer. "We eat all the time as a band, wha—"  
  
"It was supposed to be just us!"  
  
"Well, usually you tell me if it's an us anniversary thing, so sorry I didn't get the memo that you had some sort of big romantic cheesesteak date planned!"  
  
Calum feels like his chest is going to explode; Michael is too heavy on top of him and the heat is sweltering, and he doesn't know how to make himself shut up and stop spewing his secrets and feelings everywhere.  
  
"It was supposed to be kind of a surprise, okay? And it's more romantic than handjobs!" he yells.  
  
For a moment they're both silent, and Calum's just getting up the courage to scream at Michael to leave him alone when Michael speaks again.  
  
"So it...was supposed to be a date, then?"  
  
Calum presses his fingertips harder against his closed eyelids, until the pressure is making kaleidoscope patterns of black and grey on the insides, and wonders why Michael chose now to become perceptive. He's too tired to argue, is the thing.  
  
"Guess you're not gonna know now," he says, and it's as good as a 'yes'.  
  
Calum waits, but Michael doesn't say anything in return, just lets out a slow, shuddering breath against Calum's neck. After a weird, tense moment, Michael moves against Calum, but this time it isn't like he's getting comfortable—it's like he's rocking forward, rocking down, the meat of his thigh pressing on Calum's crotch. Calum's mouth drops open on a gasp and he tries to not move, to not get hard in six seconds flat.  
  
"Handjobs can be romantic," Michael says quietly, and Calum can barely hear him over the rushing sound in his ears. "If like, the intent behind it is romantic."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Calum says, trying to keep his voice steady. He's not sure he succeeds.  
  
There's something warm and wet on his neck then; a tongue, swiping up to the edge of his jaw. It should feel like he's being slobbered on, but instead it just feels kind of hot, and Calum's head tips back automatically. There's a sudden, sharp bite of something too gentle to be pain—teeth closing down on the damp patch of skin over his pulse.  
  
Calum's hand lifts off of his eyes, falling bonelessly to rest on the pillow just above his head. When he opens his eyes and looks down, Michael's red hair is all he can see. Michael's sucking now, and Calum can feel by the dull pulse of it that it's going to leave a mark.  
  
"Michael—" he says, and he has no damn idea whether that sentence is going to end in a 'stop' or a 'more', but he never gets the chance to find out because Michael is pulling away from his neck and talking.  
  
"I don't have an anniversary with Luke or Ash," he says, and he's still so close that Calum can't see his face, so close that Calum can feel the occasional brush of his lips over the slick, sensitive spot blooming on his neck. "I mean we have the band one, but none for our individual friendships or something. And it's not 'cause I don't love them or anything but it's different with you. I dunno, it's always been different." He pauses, sucks in a breath, and says all in a rush, "I never forget."  
  
"What?" Calum says.  
  
"I never forget about the anniversary thing, not since the first time you came up with it. I just liked waiting for you to come up to me with some idea of how we could celebrate. Made me feel...special."  
  
He's still rolling his body down on Calum's, and there's no way he can't feel that Calum, despite his best efforts, is chubbing up, dick growing slowly fatter in his boxers. But he's not moving away, not springing back and calling Calum a pervert. He keeps talking, and it's the words more than anything else that are stealing the breath from Calum's lungs.  
  
"When I thought you had forgotten, it felt so shitty, So shitty, Cal, you don't know. I thought fuck, I'm supposed to be important. We're supposed to be important. Because you're—you're so important to me. I don't even know how to say how much."  
  
Michael slides his hips slightly to the left and Calum jerks when he feels what has to be Michael's cock, pressing hot and stiff against his own dick. Even though he'd known that that was where this was heading, that Michael must be into it, it still hits Calum like a brick to the head and he pushes his hips up helplessly against Michael's body. Michael's head lifts from Calum's neck, thrown back with a gasp, and he grinds forward hard for a second before moving off slightly, easing it back to the slow, easy pace before. He doesn't put his face back in Calum's neck though, and Calum can see his expression, see the way his mouth hangs slack and pink and the way his forehead creases like it's taking all of his effort not to just hump forward. His eyes are closed and Calum stares at the earnest crinkles at the corners of his eyes, feeling starved for eye contact.  
  
"Fuck," Michael blurts. "When I—when I said handjobs can be romantic, I meant that we could be romantic if you wanted. I can be romantic. About you. I wanna go on a cheesesteak date with you, and maybe I didn't get that earlier, but I get it now, okay."  
  
His eyes fly open and he looks frightened somehow when he meets Calum's gaze.  
  
"But I can do platonic handjobs if that's what you want."  
  
A shaky, hesitant smile is playing at the edge of his mouth, a weird smile of surrender, and Calum can't take it.  
  
"You're so dumb," he mutters, and somehow his hands are sliding up into Michael's hair and he's pulling him down, crushing that self-deprecating smile against his own mouth.  
  
Michael makes this tiny, kittenish noise, his body going liquid and shaking over Calum's, and Calum kisses him until he feels Michael's lips curving into a real smile.  
  
"I better be getting romantic handjobs," Calum says when he pulls back. "I love you, you get that, right?"  
  
Saying it is still scary, even though he's pretty sure they're on the same page, judging by Michael's speech. His chest feels full and swollen, but this time it's not with anger.  
  
Michael's face is lit up, fucking glowing, and Calum wants to hit himself for being so sappy, but he can't help it. They're still grinding against each other, moving like they've been doing this for years and know each other's rhythms, know they don't have to rush because they have loads of time, and somehow there's still something shy in Michael's face when he says, "I love you. Lots. So much. Lots and lots. Fuck, Calum."  
  
"Good," Calum says. "Happy anniversary then."  
  
(A few doors down from them, Ashton rolls over in his sleep. "Gaaaayyy," he murmurs.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> as ever, y'all can say hi or yell at me for wasting your time at me tumblr asymmetricboys
> 
> also, the bit with ashton at the end is a reference to a comment he made on the original facebook post of the anniversary


End file.
